Young and the Restless
by xXCanadiaXx
Summary: A spell gone awry. Two children. A game on the ice. The love of a true family. A grave truth revealed. Two nations in danger. Two broken children. Bloodied snow. And one heartbroken Canadian feels like the cause of it all.
1. Prologue

"I've got it, France. The secret to finally teaching that stupid git that childish behaviour never pays off."

"And what, Monsieur Angleterre, is it?"

"This spell. This simple little spell will turn America briefly into a child."

"Why?"

"Dumb as a dog, aren't you? Now he'll see what childish behaviour really means you are."

"Why?"

"To maybe make him act a little more his age."

"OKAY, DUDES! LISTEN UP! I HAVE A SUPER AWESOME NEW PLAN TO CONQUER OUR NEWEST ISSUE! LISTEN UP OVER THERE, FRENCHY!"

And that's how the meeting of the G8 began that day. America climbed up onto the table and was shrieking about some new 'awesome' plan. England smiled devilishly at the boy before peering into his spell book.

He brought one hand up to his face and slapped France away.

"I can't concentrate with you breathing on me." He snapped. France leaned down again.

"And why is that?" He whispered. England shoved his face away.

"Sheesh, Iggy! I'm talking! Can you hold your fighting until the end if my amazing plan?!" America queried, turning a disdainful face to England, who smiled at him.

"Just like a child, you know."

"Wha-what? What do you-"

"Angry I stole your spotlight? Just like when you were a child."

"Iggy, why are you-"

"Medio igne, ferro incautum . Nunc revelatum est minor latere!" England chanted, swiping his hand towards the stunned American.

Blue flames engulfed the boy immediately. America dropped to the table, head in his hands.

"This... This is... weird." He said, looking at his hands, eyes almost missing in the bluish flames that coated him. "Hey, Iggy. What'd you do, bro?" His voice steadily grew quieter. England could see his body shrinking slowly.

He'd turn America back to himself after the shock wore off, England decided.

"Hey, dude? Help me out here?" An America seemingly in his early teens reached out towards England.

"No! Don't touch me, you burger-eating buffoon!" England squeaked, voice uncharacteristically shrill. America reached out.

"Please?" He asked quietly, and his hand made contact with England's.

Immediately both cried out sharply. America recoiled from England and crumpled onto the table, screaming in pain. England fell back against the wall and cried out.

"Angleterre, you said it would be painless! What is happening?" France yelled loudly.

"The spell is not supposed to be transmitted." England snapped shortly. He cringed violently and clutched at this hair. "It causes- NGYAH!" His sentence was cut off abruptly by a loud screech that America echoed a second later.

A great explosion.

Then-

"Where- where are they?"

*LineBreak*

Canada hid an overwhelming urge to fling his stupid alarm clock across the room. It failed to go off again and he missed the G8 meeting. He got up, scratched Kumajirou behind the ears and put on some day clothes.

"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked, pawing his owner down the hall to the kitchen. Canada opened the blinds to his kitchen and pulled some maple bacon out of the fridge.

"Canada. Kumajirou, how many times do I have to... Huh?" Canada had started on his pet irritably when he'd spotted a big smoking crater in the snow outside his winter cabin. " Kuma can you... wait a second for breakfast?" He asked distractedly, putting the bacon back into the fridge.

"I'm hungry, Canada." Kumajirou pouted. "Feed me now!"

"No, Kuma, just... stay." Canada demanded, tugging on his coat and boots. He rushed outside and ran to inspect the smoking dip in the snow. It was empty, but it made a trail of skidded snow that lead deeper into the trees.

Swallowing the fear of what would be at the end of this trail, Canada followed it into the forest, ignoring the nagging doubt that tugged at him.

What if it was a crashed satellite that exploded when it came into contact with a heated surface? Oh, God, was he stupid? Of course it wasn't a satellite.

It was a killer space beaver.

Canada stopped abruptly as he realised he walked past the end of the trail. Backtracking, he stopped at a giant snowbank. He gasped in horror as the sight below registered in his mind.

Two little boys dressed in oversized clothes, scraped up and bleeding from the icy snow.

*LineBreak*

Canada brought the children back to his house, wrapped up in their gigantic clothes and still smouldering. He pressed them onto his bed and unwrapped them from their clothes. He slowly turned up the heat in his room as he set to work folding the giant clothing.

Canada removed a small, leather bound book from the green suit, and then folded it. He made to move on to the brown suit, and then noticed something.

It was his brother's beloved bomber jacket.

Canada jumped up quickly and scrambled to take a look at the boys on the bed. One had short blonde hair and ridiculous eyebrows.

Oh, no. No, it can't be.

The other had silky, dirty blonde hair. Canada pulled open one of his eyes. Vibrant blue.

Canada stepped back from his bed in horror.

Lying on his bed were two small children. America and England had gone back in time.

Canada sat down with his head in his hands. How... How? The two boys were dressed in some of Canada's old outfits from the colonial days and tucked under his blanket in his stuffy hot room.

England and America. Children? How? Canada picked up the spell book in England's jacket and flipped through it.

**Age Reverse**

**WARNING: THE RECIPIENT OF THIS SPELL SHOULD NOT MAKE CONTACT WITH ANY OTHER HUMAN BEING AT THE TIME OF THE REVERSAL. MAY CAUSE SEVERE BURNING, PERMANENT AGE REVERSE OR DEATH**.

That was all Canada needed to see to leap up and rush over to his bed. He had never once thought to check their vital signs and was checking their pulses shakily when America's eyes fluttered open.

"My... my head hurts." He mumbled thickly. Canada looked up from checking England's seemingly okay vital signs to rush over to his brother.

"Are you okay, America!?" Canada yelped, pleased to see that his brother was okay.

"Amewica? Is that... Me?" America asked hazily. His eyes were empty and hard. Canada's eyes widened.

"Who... Are you?" He asked America slowly.

"I don't know. Who am I?" America asked brightly, sitting up and smiling.

"You're my brother, Ameri- Alfred."

To be a country was too much weight on a memory-blank little boy.

"And... Who are you?" America asked, clearly enjoying this game.

"Matthew. I'm your big brother Matthew."

"Aaaaaannnnd... Who's that?" He asked, pointing at England..

"That's Arthur."

"Is he my bwofer too?"

"I... Yeah."

"Awesome! Where am I?"

"You're in my house, in Canada."

America leapt up and smiled brighter at him.

"Now what in the name of something or other is going on here?" A weak voice laced with a British accent pulled America's attention.

"Arfur!" He cried, throwing his arms around him happily.

"Get off me, that hurts!" England said, shoving America backwards. England glared at him and clutched his injured side.

Each child looked about five years old, with puffy cheeks and messier hair. Wearing old colonial outfits, they looked like babies.

"Who do you think you are, attacking me like that, anyways? Where the hell am I?"

"Language, Arthur." Canada commanded before he could stop himself. England looked at him, green eyes wide with shock.

"I didn't see you there! Well, then. Who are you?"

"Dat's our big bwofer, Mafew!" America explained proudly.

"I'm.. your brother?" England asked, looking around him. "Okay, what's going on here?"

Canada sighed.

"How about I make you some breakfast and we discuss it then, hm?" Canada asked, trying to smile and be open. America leapt up.

"Yeah, awight, food!"

*LineBreak*

Canada had mangaed to convince the boys that their names were Alfred and Arthur Williams and that they were his litlle brothers who lost parts of their memories falling down the stairs.

"There's no stairs in this house." Said England – Arthur- disdainfully. Matthew sighed.

"We were... out somewhere."

"I'm still confused!" said Alfred, around a huge mouthful of his maple bacon. "Why am I dwessed like a girl?"

"That's a colonial gown!" Matthew said, rather loudly as he defended the comfortable silk that reminded him of childhood. "All little boys had to wear them back in time!"

"But this is now." Arthur reminded him.

"Fine. If you want, we can go buy you some new clothes and then go do something fun, okay?" Matthew reasoned. Alfred nodded rapidly.

"Yes, okay!"

*The next day*

Being awesome like that, Matthew, like the other nations, owned a special mechanism of transport to other countries: A jet. It was parked wherever the hell you park a jet in the middle of the woods by a cabin.

"Okay, you two. We have to make it to Ontario if you want to get some good clothes, so we need to take this." Matthew said, smiling at the awed looks on the boys' faces when they saw the large jet.

"Cool, Mafew, dat's cool! Can I dwive it?" Alfred asked. He stretched out his arms and ran around in a circle. "See, I'll dwive it like dat, so can I?" He asked, beaming up at Matthew with wide blue eyes. Arthur narrowed his eyes as though daring Matthew to let Alfred drive.

"No, no, Al. Sorry. You can sit in the best seat, okay?"

"Hey, what about me? Why don't I get a good seat?" Arthur pouted. Matthew gulped at the danger this posed but proposed,

"Why don't you sit together?"

"YEAH!"

"Alright."

*LineBreak*

As was to be predicted, the plane ride was pretty much a three hour nightmare.

"Move over, Alfred!"

"Make me! HEY, NO PUSHING!"

"Well, move over!"

"I WILL PUT THIS PLANE RIGHT BACK ON THE GROUND."

"Tell Alfred to move over!"

"Tell Arthur to quit shoving!"

Matthew wanted to kill the two by the time he landed the jet wherever the hell you land a jet in Toronto without getting arrested. He unbuckled them and scooped Arthur up in his arms and lead Alfred out of the plane by his hand.

He called up a taxi and pressed the boys into the backseat, and ordered him to the Scarborough Town Center.

"Would you two like to ride in a stroller..."

"No! I'm a big boy!" Alfred said, puffing out his chest. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Arthur?"

"Of course not."

*LineBreak*

Matthew had the boys safely back in the cabin late that same night, and they were exploring the new clothes they bought.

"I wike this one!" Alfred cried, holding up a bright blue hoodie patterned with several superhero symbols. Arthur was dressed in a hoodie patterned with an English flag and a pair of jeans.

"I think my clothes are alot better than your tacky rags." He said superiorly. Alfred turned a glare his way.

"Oh, pwease. Mine is SUPEWHEWOES. Supewhewoes are way coower dan cowours!" he squeaked out. "What do you think, big bwofer?" Matthew jumped and blushed. No one ever really asked his opinion.

"You... You wanna know what I think? Really?" He asked, not even trying to stop the tear of joy from leaking down his cheek.

"Hey.. Why are you cwying, bro?" Alfred asked. He put his hand on Matthew's knee. "If you wike Arfur's better, you can say so, I won't be mad!"

"N-no, it's not that, it's just... I'm glad I have you two here." He finished lamely. Alfred put down his sweater and requested an 'up.' Once Matthew lifted him he wrapped his arms around Matthew's neck. Arthur put his hand on Matthew's knee like Alfred had.

"I'm gwad you're hewe, too. So don't cwy, okay, Mafew?"

"Okay. Okay."

*The next day...*

"So. What do you say I take you out and we do something else today?"

"Okay! Sounds fun! What're we gonna do, Mafew?"

"Ow! My hair!"

"Sorry, Arthur."

Matthew was dressing the boys in their clothes the next day, and attempting to pull a zipper hoodie over Arthur's head. Arthur rubbed the bases of the assaulted strands as Matthew undid the zipper and pulled it over his shoulders.

"We could go ice- skating." He suggested, smiling at the prospect of taking the boys skating as he tied up Arthur's scarf and took Alfred's sweater from him so he could put it on him.

"Cool! I get to slip and slide like, weeeeeee! Right?"

"Once you get the hang of it."

"Okay!"

So Matthew finished dressing the boys and decided it would be easier to walk the boys to the nearest town and rent them some skates at the rink. About halfway there Alfred began to complain, so Matthew let him ride on his back. Arthur doted on unfairness, so Matthew picked him up frontwards and trudged through the snow. When he finally arrived into the warm rink reception area, he put the boys on a bench and rented them some skates.

"Let go, twit! That's mine!"

"No, no! I want one of these too!" Matthew sighed and took the skates from the woman in the reception desk and turned to the boys. Alfred looked as though he was attempting to strangle Arthur by tugging on his scarf.

"A-Alfred! Stop!" Matthew cried, dropping the skates and shoving Alfred away.

'Look, look, take my scarf!" He said, tugging it off and tying it 'round Alfred's neck.

"Yippie!"

"Arthur? Y'okay?" Matthew asked, looking at the red marks on the boy's neck. Arthur sniffed.

"Of course. I'm just angry at my stupid brother." He said, and Matthew could hear the tears choking his voice. Matthew took a deep breath and put Arthur in his lap.

"Al."

Alfred looked up from his skates and looked at Matthew guiltily.

"Y-yes?"

"Why?"

"I wanted a scawf too!" He snapped defiantly. Matthew pulled back Arthur's hair to reveal the friction marks in the skin.

"You hurt Arthur."

"I'm not hurt!"

"Ask next time, okay, Al? You could have seriously hurt Arthur, or killed him."

Alfred's eyes widened. "No, no, no! I don't wanna kill him!" He squealed, leaping onto Arthur and hugging him. "I'm sowwy, Arfur! I'm da hewo, and hewoes don't kill so don't be mad!"

'I-I'm not." Arthur said. Matthew took both of the boys into his arms.

"Do you wanna skate now?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Alfred cried, jumping away from Arthur to attempt to put his skates on for himself. Once Matthew had the boys all laced up, he ignored Alfred's protests (I can walk, Mafew, see? Ow! Sorry Arfur.) and carried them onto the ice rink.

"Cool! Do I go wike dis?" Alfred asked, taking a rather normal step on to the ice. Matthew rescued him before he fell onto his face.

"No. You don't." Matthew laughed as Alfred picked himself up and harrumphed.

"Genius, Alfred."

"Shut up, Artie."

"OKAY." Matthew interjected; they turned towards him, faces shining in innocence. Matthew slowly untangled the scarf from Alfred's neck and tied it around his waist.

"We're gonna do it like this." He said, using Arthur's hand to guide him around a shaky woman to the guide rail.

"Your turn next, okay, Arthur?" Matthew asked; Arthur nodded.

"Okay, Al. Hold that scarf real tight with all your hero strength. Got it?"

"Yeah, big bwofer! It'll never escape!" Alfred's face shone with pride as he clasped the scarf between his little hands. Matthew nodded.

"Okay. Lean back and hold on tight."

And they were off. Matthew sped off through the rink rapidly, keeping a tight hold on the taut scarf as it swiped this way and that. When Matthew saw the area where he'd left Arthur, he slowed, turned, and a speeding child on skates crashed into him.

"Was that fun, Alfred?" He asked. Alfred, however, grabbed his shirt and didn't let go.

"I fought I was gonna go fwyin' Mafew, I was scweamin', didn'cha hear?" Alfred whined. Matthew's eyes widened as he picked Alfred up and carried him to the guide bar, which he grabbed and looked up at him from.

"W-where's Artie?" He asked suddenly, fear forgotten from his tone as interest clawed its way through.

"Right here." Said Arthur's voice, and Matthew was surprised to see him lying on the ice, skirted by skaters. Matthew chuckled and reached for him.

"And it's Arthur." He added to Alfred. Matthew scooped him up.

"Arthur, I told you to stay there, on the guide bar." Matthew chided lightly, brushing shaved ice from Arthur's cheeks.

"But everyone else could do it. I just didn't try hard enough." He responded determinedly, pushing away Matthew's hands with fire in his eyes. He wriggled until he was put down and then shifted forwards on his skates; his legs shot out to either side and he sprawled on his face.

"HAHAHA! Artie, you fail at dis!"

"Why you insolent little-"

Insolent? He's what? Five?

"How about" Matthew said, interrupting whatever Arthur was going to yell at his brother, "We try going all together? Hold my hand, Arthur."

Arthur looked upset at the prospect of being helped, but allowed Matthew to pull him to his feet and take his hand. Matthew turned to grb Alfred's hand and moved forward slowly, esaily, until Al requesteed they go faster.

"Wheeee! I'm skatin'! Wook, Arfur, I'm doin' it! An' you too!"

"Yes, I see, this is really fun!" Arthur cried, putting his other arm in the air and shifting his feet every now and then to stay upright.

Matthew felt warmth spread through him as the boys' happy yells filled the arena while they zipped along. Other skaters pulled out cellphones and Matthew could see them flashing and going off in their direction; people were snapping photos of them.

"Ready, you two, we're gonna spin, okay?" Matthew yelled, or to others, spoke in a normal voice.

"Okay!"

"ALRIGHT!"

So Matthew bent his knees and scooped up the boys as they skated, and jumped up into the air, performing a spin before landing on the ice. A few cheers rang up, and Matthew blushed at being noticed; he never was, normally.

"AWESOME!"

"Amazing!"

Arthur and Alfred cheered along with the crowd and threw their arms around him, burrowing their heads into his neck. Alfred awved to the crowd enthusiastically as Matthew sakted off the rink and carried them into the reception area. When he set them down on the benches to undo their skates, he saw their eyes gleaming, and Arthur had a beam on his face that Matthew'd never seen before.

"That was exceptional!" he cried as Matthew undid his skated and pulled his snowboots back on. "I mean, I don't remember ever moving like that, it was like floating!"

"Yeah, Arfur's wight! I was fwyin' Mafew, I'm sure I was! D'ja see me?"

"You weren't flying!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"MAFEW!"

*Later*

A snowstorm had kicked up during dinner that night, and loud wind blew around the cabin as Matthew tucked the boys into the bed in his spare room. Arthur appeared to already be asleep.

"Goodnight boys." Matthew said, turning out the light and returning to his own room. He could hear the wind whistling around the cabin and snow smashing his windows when he pulled his blankets around his head.

Alone with his thoughts, Matthew began to wonder exactly why England had turned he and Alfred into children. And how they ended up in front of his house. And what would happen to their nation if the representative was again a child.

That was as far as he got before his door slammed open and Alfred launced his little body into the bed, followed by Arthur, who climbed over Alfred and cuddled into Matthew.

"B-boys? What's wrong? Is the snowstorm scaring you?"

"I'm not scared! Arthur is! I just brought him here and I wanna stay!"

"I'm not scared... I'm cold..." Slurred Arthur drowsily. Matthew pulled the blankets over the chidren and tucked them close to him.

And wished with all his might that this spell didn't wear off. Ever.

*LineBreak*

A/N: Lame story is lame! Hooray for my failiure. But if you made it here without clawing out your eyes, first if all, thank you and secondly, the rest is more intriguing and interesting! I promise!


	2. Secrets and Blood

A/N: Bon giorna, mia amigas! Thanks for coming to chapter two! Intrigue ensues! I really should be doing my actual work right now, but fact is, I'm LAZY. So enjoy my 3:00 a.m. imagination: Chapter 2

*LineBreak*

*A week later*

'I don't wanna wear this! It's uncomfy!" America said angrily as Canada buttoned up his suit jacket.

"You have to, Al." Matthew sighed again as he pulled a winter cap over Alfred's ears. Today was another G8 meeting, which was originally to be held in England, but was transferred to France because of England's obvious inability to host anything.

"This is itchy." Alfred complained, scratching the tuxedo pants.

"I'm sorry, Alfred, but this is all I have."

"How come Arfur gets to stay asweep? I'm sweepy too!"

"Arthur is sick right now, Alfred."

Arthur had contracted a heavy fever in the middle of the night. Matthew had decided to leave him in bed, tucked up and not allowed to eat.

Starve a fever, feed a cold.

"I'm sick too!" Alfred yelled, punctuating his sentence with a few fake coughs. Matthew shook his head and handed Alfred a glass of water.

"Drink that while I dress your brother." He said shortly. Alfred snatched the glass grumpily and chugged down the water. Matthew shook Arthur gently. Arthur grunted and shifted to face him. His whole face was red and his green eyes were glassy.

"You have to get dressed, okay?" Matthew asked him quietly. Arthur nodded and rolled back over. Gently, Matthew tugged his clothes onto him and scooped him up.

"Al? Let's go." Matthew said, cuddling Arthur to his chest. Nations didn't often get sick, but Matthew guessed it was different for children. He hoped nothing was wrong with the nation of England...

Alfred grabbed his hand and Matthew lead him to the jet.

"Itchy, itchy, itchy..." He grumbled angrily.

"Al. If you shut up, you can play a videogame during the meeting, okay?" Matthew said, bundling him onto the jet and putting him in the seat.

"Cool! He exclaimed happily as Matthew buckled Arthur in beside him and reclined the seat so he could lay down.

"Good. Now stay still okay? Here we go."

*LineBreak*

"Canada!"

"Look at that!"

"He has them, aru!"

Canada was bombarded by greetings as he entered the meeting room. France rushed up to him and peered at little England in his arms.

"You have the boys? But how?" He asked, pressing two fingers to England's forehead.

"It has begun already." He stated simply, then shook his head and ushered Canada to his seat. America sat down beside him and Canada handed him a videogame console that he seemed to already know everything about.

"So, Canada, it has come to attention that you have possession of the two endangered nations." Germany said loudly.

"Endangered?" Canada asked.

"Yes, Canada-san. The two young nations in your possession are in danger." Japan said gravely.

"What do you mean?"

"Ve~ Germany told me that the land itself is really going to go back in time~" Italy told him, sounding about as serious as Italy got.

"W-what?" Canada asked, squeezing England just a little tighter. Everyone nodded gravely. "Wh-why has no one told me this before?" He asked, getting a little angry.

"Well, we didn't know you had possession of the-"

"But none of you had possession of them either, and you all seem to know... You know what, yeah, I was forgotten again, whatever. What do you mean they're in danger?" He asked worriedly.

The nations all exchanged glances before France finally said,

"The representatives of a country grow with their country. But the representatives have been pulled back in time, and therefore, so have the nations."

'I-I don't-"

"The country of Angleterre is going back in time, losing all of the current lifestyle they currently reside in. So is the country of les Etats-Unis de Amerique. The nations are steadily being pulled back in time. But once they reach the age of the representative, they will not stop going back. Angleterre's spell was messed up, and meant only for humans at that. The nations and the children will continue to go back until eventually they fade from existence."

"That-that can't..."

"It will happen. It is happening."

"So I need to-"

"Use Angleterre's spell book to change them back to normal before something bad happens."

"England-san is already sick." Japan said darkly. "America-san will start becoming ill as well, and soon-"

"No!" Canada cried. "No, soon nothing. I'll change them back. I'll try."

Germany nodded. "Good. Because without the nations of England and America, several histories will change. Including your own."

"Mafew? What's an Engwand? And isn't Amewica what you said that time after I woke up?" America questioned. Several appealed glances shot his way.

"You haven't told them they are nations?" France asked.

"I-I didn't think they needed to know. They're children."

"What's a nation?" America asked, shutting off the game and looking at him questioningly. Canada patted him on the head.

"Let's go home. I'll tell you there."

*The next day*

After the meeting, America contracted a stomach bug and was forced to lie in bed and drink only water and electrolyte drinks. Canada had to tell them of their nation-upholdery soon; they just kept getting sicker. But he didn't want to upset them. America was extremely irritable at the moment and England rarely ever woke up.

Canada considered just changing them back, but if they happened to re-grow with no recollection of being nations, it would be harder to convince a stubborn nineteen year old and a proud however-old-Arthur-really-was.

So he tried his best to make them better using human methods.

*Five days later*

America, fully healthy and strong as ever, doted loudly on how stomach flu could never keep down the hero to his still weak brother, who pretended to be interested in his nonsense.

"Amazing, Alfred." Said Arthur boredly as Matthew handed him a new glass of ice water. Alfred had spilled the old one all over Matthew's bed, where they were sleeping until Matthew was sure they were better. But Matthew was pretty sure already that this was as 'better' as he would get.

"Alfred? Arthur?" He asked, sitting down on the bed next to them. Alred stopped yelling and looked at him, a little ticked off at being interrupted. Arthur looked as though he couldn't have been happier.

"I have something to tell you." He sighed. Alfred smiled at him.

"Arfur is a girl, isn't he? I knew it, 'cause he's always talkin' to fairies!"

"I'm not a girl." Arthur defended weakly. "I just talk to fairies 'cause they're nicer than you."

"Ouch. Words hurt, Artie."

"Guys." Matthew interrupted. He took out an atlas of the world and opened it up to a page with the full earth.

"Remember last week, when I dressed you up all nice and went to go meet my -er- friends in the meeting? And they spoke of England, America and Canada?" He asked, pointing out each country on the map. Alfred nodded, but Arthur looked blank.

"You were asleep, love." Matthew told him. Arthur nodded.

"Anyway, that's... You. Arthur, you're really called England, and Alfred, you're actually America. You used to be adults, and then Arthur used magic and changed you back in time. You crashed in front of my house and now I have to grow you up and send you home." Matthew blurted, and was met by two blank faces.

'How can a human be a piece of land?" Arthur asked incredulously.

"You want to get wid of us?" Alfred asked, tears rimming his eyes.

"Arthur, you were born to represent that country and- No, Alfred!"

"Yes, you do! I can't be dat," he said, gesturing to U.S.A on the map, "if I'm me! You're just making up some stupid story so you can get rid of us by saying some mumbo jumbo and then thwowing us into da snow!"

"Why would I want to do that?" Matthew asked, moving to hug Alfred, who shoved him away.

"I'm too woud."

"You think I'm crazy." Arthur said quietly. Matthew opened his mouth to object, but Alfred continued, and Arthur joined in.

"I'm 'tupid."

"I get sick too much."

"I eat too much."

"I complain a lot."

"I take up all da space in your bed."

"We bother your polar bear."

"We make a mess. So don't twy to pwetend you don't want us hewe anymore! You just made up some huge lie so you wouldn't hafta tell us da twuth!"

"I would never-"

"No! You don't wove me or my bwofer anymore! If you want me to weave, I will! I'll go find someone who twuly woves me when dey say dey do! Who won't tell me I'm a 'tupid picture in a book!" Alfred ranted angrily, throwing the blankets off of him and jumping from the bed.

"America, just listen-"

"Don't call me dat! I'm not a countwy! I'm ME!" He said, running from the room. Matthew made a move to go after him, but Arthur tugged his shirt.

"I always thought you liked him better than me. If you don't love him anymore, then what chance so I have? I did like living here. But now..."

Tears choked the boy's voice as he continued, hiding the tears from Matthew.

"Now I suppose I have to accept I have only one brother. The one who doesn't pretend I'm a grown up to get me away."

"Arthur..."

"Wait for me, Alfred!" He cried, and then jumped off the bed and ran after Alfred. Tears cascaded down Matthew's cheeks and for a second he just sat there, crying and wondering how they could possibly think he didn't love them with all his heart.

He shook his head and shot up, tugging on a coat and boots.

"Kumajirou!" He called; his bear could help him track the children.

"I don't wanna talk to you." Called the bear from wherever he was.

"Kuma, please! You have to help me find Alfred and Arthur!"

Silence. Then-

"Really?"

"Yes!" Matthew cried desperately. Kumajirou toddled out of the living room and produced a bear-smile before turning to the door.

"I'll help. Let's go." And Matthew opened the door and shot from it, following the footprints the two had left in the snow until they stopped. Suddenly. Matthew could see no trace of them. He noticed a print in the snow, but it was not from a child's boot. It was from a branch.

Arthur had probably thought to brush away the footprints they left behind, at did it quite well.

"Kuma? Can you smell them out for me? Please?" Matthew asked desperately. Every moment he spent lost got the boys farther. Kumajirou sniffed the ground, going one way, then backing up and going the other.

"The one who smells like leaves went this way, and the one who smells like food went that way. They musta broken the branch in two."

"I'll go after Al, then. Find Arthur, Kuma!" Matthew said, taking off in the direction of 'the one who smells like food.' Matthew didn't care that he was tripping and stumbling and tears were freezing to his face, how stupid was it of those boys to split up?

A blood curdling screech stopped Matthew in his tracks.

"Found one!" Kuma's voice followed shortly after. Both voices were faint and far away, and Matthew reluctantly gave up his quest for Alfred to run in the direction of Kumajirou's voice.

"Hurry, whoever you are!" Kuma cried, and Matthew tried to run faster.

Another screech. Whimpering and whining. And then Matthew burst into a clearing, stopped again by what he saw.

Arthur, huge scrapes running up his chest and across his neck, bleeding into the snow.

Alfred, bruises and bite marks showing through his torn clothing, bleeding into the snow.

And Kumajirou, no wounds whatsoever, but paws and muzzle sticky and red, printing blood into the snow.


	3. Now That You're Gone

A/N: So this chapter is going to be a flashback into Alfred's mind as they ran away.

A/N: This chapter is might be mood-swingy because I was listening to character songs like Dream Journey, Canada Complete Introduction, Let's Look behind the Rainbow, and I'm Your Hero. So enjoy my mood swings between riled, softened, loving, bouncy and back again. I tried to stay as frantic as possible, though.

*LineBreak*

Alfred made sure to slam the door behind him as Arthur followed him slowly. Alfred knew he was sick, but he had to move faster.

He was so mad at Matthew. How could he possibly be a country? A country was a piece of land in the middle of some water. Alfred was a human with blood running through his veins. Well, if Matt didn't even love him enough to make up a good lie, then Al decided he didn't love Matt enough to stay.

"Alfred? We're leaving footprints. One second." Arthur said, and Alfred whipped around to see him pick up a branch and brush the snow where they'd left prints.

"Great idea, Arfur!" Alfred cheered. "Come on, before Mafew sees us." So they took off running, Arthur backwards and slow, through the trees by Matthew's house. When Alfred heard a door slam, he decided they weren't moving quick enough, so he turned and knocked the branch from Arthur's hands.

"No more time for that, just run quick!" He said, and tugged Arthur's hand until they burst into a clearing surrounded by trees. Arthur collapsed into the snow, panting wildly, and Alfred dropped to his knees and hugged his brother.

"What... Do... We... Do... Now?" Arthur panted, shivering. "I don't feel good."

Alfred felt his head spin wildly, probably in fatigue, and he verbally agreed.

"He can't find us here. Alfred said. "Wet's take a nap, m'kay?"

Arthur nodded and curled into Alfred's lap. Alfred was confused. Usually Arthur hated hugs and touches, and was awake longer than Alfred.

"Arfur? You okay?"

"Of course." He wheezed. "Just tired because of you dragging me."

Alfred decided he was content with that, and curled around his brother, shutting his eyes.

"Look at what I found!" Crooned a singsong voice. Alfred shot up, dizzy again and wanting to sleep, and looked straight into the eyes of Matthew's polar bear.

"You can't make us go back!" Alfred squeaked, grabbing Arthur and hugging him. Arthur hugged him back, as though seeking protection, and Alfred definitely knew that something was wrong with his normally independent brother. And he knew he had to be the hero.

'I won't let you take us back to Mafew!" Alfred shrieked. Kuma shook his head.

"I won't take you back. I'm gonna help you escape! See, since you've been here, whoever that is hasn't done a single thing for me. So if he's right, and you're getting increasingly sick, it should be very easy to fix this for both of us." Kumajirou said, smiling at Alfred in a way that made him uneasy.

"C-cool." Alfred said, still suspicious of the bear.

"Come, I'll take away the sicker one first." Kuma said, and grabbed Arthur's sweater with his teeth. Alfred thought he was going to carry Arthur and then bend down to let Alfred on his back. Excited at riding a bear, Alfred stood up.

But what happened next frightened Alfred into his snowy seat again.

Kumajirou slashed across Arthur's chest with his claws, then his neck. Arthur made no sound, but his eyes widened and filled with pain. Alfred, however, screeched as his brother was harmed in front of his eyes.

"Now you've given us away." Kumajirou pouted. "He'll come to get you now."

Alfred, being his hero self, charged at the bear.

"Found one!" Kumajirou called to no one, before shaking Alfred off of him and sinking his teeth into Alfred's neck. He flung him violently into a surrounding tree. Pain stabbed Alfred right through both sides. He cried out in pain as the bear dragged him back to where Arthur was.

"Leave me alone..." Alfred moaned. Kumajirou snapped his teeth in Alfred's face.

"Now Matthew, you said? Will love me again. Now that you're gone."

Blinding pain.

Blackness.

*LineBreak*

A/N: Snapped!Kumajirou? OΔO who woulda thought?


	4. Fallen Nations

Canada threw himself onto the snow and caressed England's bloodied face.

"Kumajirou." Canada whispered, examining the cuts on his ribs and stomach. He moved on to America, moving his hands over the bruises.

"What have you done? Why would you-"

"Now I know how you feel when you say everybody ignores you." Said the bear simply, cleaning his paws in the snow. "Now they're dead, you love me again, right?"

Canada was shocked into tears that his bear would think that this makes things better.

"N-no! Kumajirou, they're dead?"

"How should I know? Will you bring me breakfast now?' Kuma asked brightly.

"N-no!" Canada spluttered again. He jumped up, unsure of what to do. How could he move the boys? There was a hospital near...

"M-Mafew..." America slurred quietly. Canada's focus dropped to the bloody little boy in the snow. His eyes were barely open and he was still bleeding.

"Sh-shush, Alfred." He whimpered, taking the boy gently into his arms. America cried out quietly in pain and burrowed his head into Canada's chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll save you, don't worry..." Canada blabbered uselessly, attempting to pick up Arthur without hurting him worse; he was bleeding much worse than America. With both boys tucked into his arms, soaking his tan jacket with blood, Canada ran as fast as he could to the tiny hospital in the more crowded part of the northern city.

Both boys had fallen unconscious again by the time he burst through the door, sobbing and begging for reception. Unlike his summer home, (In Toronto) this area wasn't too crowded, and doctors carried away the boys on stretchers while Canada did the reception stuff.

*ThereIsALineBreakHere*

Hours had passed and Canada was stuck in the waiting room with his head in his hands, mentally cursing himself off for not paying attention to his pet. And then for upsetting the boys.

"Stupid," he told himself. "You are so, so stupid."

"Mr. Williams. We have bad news about your sons."

Sons? His sons... He had no sons. His muddled mind took a moment to comprehend the doctor's words; He meant Al and Arthur.

"B-bad n-news?" He asked dumbly, standing up. The doctor, a short man with black hair, nodded solemnly.

"Yes. Those boys have a low chance of making it. You are allowed to see them and bid farewell."

The world has ended. It must have. If it hadn't, the doctor would be lying. He wouldn't have said those horrible words. The only two people who'd ever paid attention to and seen him...

Canada stared at the doctor.

"You're lying." He hissed through tears. "They're playing with me, aren't they?" He asked, then jumped away, towards the hall. He ran down the hallways, peering in through windows until two pale faces stood out to him. Panicking, Canada threw open the door.

Surely their status as nations would keep them alive...? Right? The news was on in a corner of the room as Canada burst in.

"...President of the United states has died recently, several towns in Southern states have caught fire and three major explosions have been documented. Los Angeles has experienced an earthquake and was dislodged from the country and plunged into the water. The entire nation has noticed a massive blackout, cars have stopped working and WiFi networks are down, as well as radio stations. This is Deep Jackenson, from Canada's best news station." Said the newsman, shutting off his horrible report on the United States.

Canada blanched and threw himself at America's bed. The little boy was coughing madly. A heart monitor beeped vaguely and irregularly in a corner.

"Alfred?" Canada asked. Alfred's eyes opened. The normally vibrant blue orbs were dull as he looked up at Canada.

"Mafew... I'm sowwy. I don't hate you." He wheezed. "It... It huwts, Mafew." He whimpered. "M-make it stop..."

"I-I can't, Alfred. You have to. You're strong, right? You're the hero, you have to be!" Matthew cried.

"I-I don't feel like pwaying da hewo game today, Mafew. You can be da hewo, okay?" Alfred said, raising his hand and patting Matthew lightly on the head.

"Alfred, no! You're the hero, you're the strong one, please, stay awake!" Matthew whined; the heart monitor in the corner slowed.

"N-no. I feel sick. I wanna nap, Mafew... G'night, Arfur!" He called quietly to the other boy.

"G'Night, Mafew. I... I wuv you." He said, panting slightly as he put his tiny hand on Matthew's.

His heart monitor stopped bleeping.

Matthew let out an anguished wail as the grip Alfred had ion his hand loosened and fell. He kissed the boy's head, letting his tears fall onto Alfred's face.

"Goodnight, brother."

"The United States has fallen." Declared the T.V.

"I-interesting how the country fell when my brother died."

Matthew looked away from Alfred; Arthur was awake -he must've been napping- and his eyes were glistening with tears as he gazed at Matthew and Alfred.

"A-Arthur! You're not dead!" Matthew cried happily, rushing over to him. Arthur's injuries had been worse than Al's; his nation must be taking longer to fall.

"Y-you're okay! Good, good, stay okay, do you want something? Do you want some water? I'll tell you a fairy tale! I'll give you anything." He sighed, falling beside the child's bed. Childish innocence glimmered in his eyes as he whispered,

"Anything?"

"Yes, love," Matthew said, using the British pet name, "anything."

"Can you, use that magic you said you had to fix Alfred? Or were you lying about the magic?" Asked Arthur suspiciously.

"I wasn't lying." Matthew said, pulling the forgotten spellbook from his pocket. "But, I can't find a reviving spell... Oh! I can-I can regrow you! I can still fix this!" He said excitedly, pressing his hand to the child's forehead reassuringly.

"Um, um, okay." He raised his hand hopefully, and chanted,

" Animam pueri , corpus exiguum. Abrogare eaque semel."

For a brief second, England glowed red. Then the glow subsided. And the boy hadn't changed. With a cry, Canada looked down and discovered a bit of fine print.

'Works in NON-TRANSMITTED age reverse spell.'

"Oh, no!" Canada yelped, tears spilling incessantly from his eyes as Arthur studied his still-small body and coughed.

"I-I can't fix you! I-I'm so sorry!" Matthew whispered, and Arthur touched his head.

"I don't care. I just like to know you cared enough to try. I still don't believe I can be a nation, because that makes no sense. But I believe you are my brother," he coughed, and when he spoke again he rasped,

"And I'll love you and Alfred forever." He coughed again, and his own heart monitor began to skip beats.

"Arthur, no! Don't leave me, you can't leave me too!" Matthew cried, grasping his hand.

Two deep breaths.

"I'm going to nap too. It'll make me feel better. Good-goodnight, big brother."

The monitor stopped. Arthur's hand loosened as Alfred's had, and Matthew dropped it softly. Sobbing, he pulled the sheets over Arthur's pale form, then Alfred's.

"Goodnight, little brothers." Matthew sobbed. "You can't sleep in my bed tonight, but if you're good, I'll tell you a story..."

A/N: For those of you who are confused, the bombings, fires and Earthquakes in the states came from Al's injuries, and the WiFi, power loss and car failure was from the back in time thing. The reporter was using Canadian stuff, so his technology wasn't broken.


	5. Angels and France

Matthew expected Alfred's constant wriggling to wake him up.

He expected Al to complain sleepily about how hungry he was.

He wanted to get up and make Al some bacon and smother it in syrup, just how he liked it.

But he felt useless.

Matthew expected to feel Arthur's warm little body seeking refuge from the snowstorm.

He expected the indifferent comment of 'No, I am NOT scared.'

He wanted to get up and dress the boy and reassure him, 'I know you're not.'

But he felt cold.

He was lying on the floor of the hospital; it was cold and useless and empty and dead.

Matthew wanted to curl into a hole and die. The ticking of the clock in the hospital room was agitating him as he stood up and looked at each of the children who left him behind.

They looked like they were asleep, not dead, not gone... Matthew felt his eyes fill up again as he touched their skin, just in case.

Deathly cold.

The lump in his throat expanded to a painful size as tears started to flow again. And the tears were making him see things.

The boys looked as though they were glowing, white light engulfed them fully. And then something happened that made Matthew scream in horror.

Alfred and Arthur sat up and began to walk.

They were glowing gold, dressed in colonial outfits and no longer ravaged by polar bear markings. Shiny golden halos sparkled around their heads and fluttery, feathery wings graced their backs. But when Matthew looked down, the two still laid peacefully on the beds marked up and scored.

"You can't keep down the hero." Breathed the Alfred-Angel. He stepped forwards and laid a light peck on Matthew's nose.

"I'm gonna go pway now. I'll see you later." He said; he shimmered gold briefly and disappeared. Arthur-Angel leapt from the bed and swooped down for a tiny hug.

"I've always wanted to fly! Thank you. Goodbye." Matthew accepted the empty hug before the golden-glowing child disappeared after his brother. The door to the hospital room opened and a doctor came in.

"Your sons passed away last night, sir. I'm sorry."

Canada nodded blankly and let whatever the doctors had to say fly over his ears. He signed the papers that were pushed his way and was ushered out of the hospital.

...*LineFreakingBreak*...

His cellphone dinged with the Canadian National Anthem about twice before Canada stopped staring at the sweaters he'd knitted for the boys and picked it up. Cuddling the sweaters, he sighed,

"Hello?"

"What happened to Angleterre? Several of his old colonies are dead! Has he completed his reversal?"

"A-ah!" Canada was startled by France's loud outburst in his ear. "J-je ne sais pas! I'm sorry!" The French flew from his mouth before he even realised.

"Canada, you know what's happened! Tell me!"

"O-oui. Angleterre et Amerique died dans l'hopital this morning!" Canada squeaked, pulling the phone away from his ear as France shouted,

"But of course! His old colonies are disappearing! Nobody can find them!"

"B-but, England just died! His colonies should still have been found, non? They should still exist!"

"Are you stupid, Canada!?"

"N-non, non, je ne suis pas stupide!" Canada yelped, remembering all too well the days from his past when France had gotten angry at him for not making enough useful resources.

"Then why don't you understand? England dis-a-ppeared! His country went back in time as he did. England has never existed."

"Then, then how do you know qui il est?" Canada asked.

"Because I have deep history with him. But we will all forget him eventually if you do not do something! You are already forgetting the English he taught you!"

"M-mais, porquoi moi?" Canada whimpered.

"Because you killed him!"

The line went dead and Canada hugged the sweaters closer. His English was slipping away from him rapidly and the pictures of England and/or America that he had on the mantelpiece were slowly fading. The flags of their countries that he'd pinned up were dulling and the patterns on the sweaters were dying away.

Canada felt his resolve slowly dripping out his ears. What could he do? What was Canada supposed to be able to do for two dead children?

"What should I do?" He whispered aloud. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relax and think.

He didn't see the pictures on the mantelpiece.

He didn't see the flags in the halls and closets.

He didn't see the patterns on the sweaters he clutched.

But he heard the knock on the door.

Startled, and wondering who would care to visit him in the dead of the forests of Northwest Territories, Canada stood up and went to the door. He opened it and gasped.

He was staring straight into the blue eyes of his little brother, the United States of America.

*LineBreakOfDoom*

Well, short chapter is short. Sorry folks. For anyone who is confused, here's the clarification corner!

1) France and Canada speaking of England's disappearance.

Well, basically England ceased to exist. But Canada thinks it's like a tape on rewind, so some of the colonies still have been found. But England died, so the rewind has stopped and he just doesn't exist.

2) Canada remembering France's anger at no good resources

HISTORY TIME. Basically, just before the time of the Seven years war, France barely wanted Canada because it stopped making useful resources to him. When England wanted him, he wanted the land for trade. But France (In Hetalia terms) just either ignored Canada or used him hard to look for more resources


End file.
